


Intercepting Dawn

by rinskiroo



Series: A Good Space Boy From A Good Space Family [5]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Endor, Family, Gen, Space Battles, Time Travel, Young Poe, it's a trap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 13:55:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9388076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rinskiroo/pseuds/rinskiroo
Summary: Poe Dameron, a young Captain in the New Republic, is somehow sent back in time to the Battle of Endor.  How and why don't matter, just that he gets to see his mother again.  Is there a reason the Force has put him through this?  Or just a maddening chance of fate.





	

            The first sort of awareness he had was the sound of the klaxon.  It was loud and sharp and repeated over, and over…  It was also old, like the way sirens in old holo vids sounded.  There was a snap and a hiss as the air around him changed.  The stale cockpit air escaped as the canopy lifted, replaced by moist… moist?

            “Guy’s still alive in here!”  someone shouted, loudly, too loudly.

            He winced—well, he thought he winced, but his eyes still wouldn’t open and his limbs wouldn’t move quite the way he wanted them to.  There were hands on him, pulling him out of the cramped space.  Someone had placed a small plastic mask over his mouth and nose and the air felt a little better, sweeter; definitely not as moist.  He groaned as the foreign hands laid him out on the floor.  No, it was something else.  They were carrying him, trying not to jostle him too much on the backboard.

            “Hang in there, pilot,”  it was a woman’s voice, soft and hauntingly familiar.

            His fingers just barely clenched, finally obeying the commands he was sending to them.  They reached out, groping for the woman, finally finding her fingers gripping one of the handholds.

            “It’s all right,”  she soothed, her voice like some far away dream that he didn’t dare have.  “We’ll get you patched up, good as new.”

            “…Mom?”  His voice was cracked and hoarse, barely audible under the mask, but she had heard him.

            She laughed,  “Not unless your name is Poe.”

            Poe Dameron.  Captain.  Republic Starfighter Corps.  Rapier Two.  And the woman his fingers were cautiously grazing?  Shara Bey.  Lieutenant.  Green Four.  _Mom._

 

 

            “Gave us quite a scare, Ace.”

            Poe’s dark eyes opened, and then immediately closed.  _Why am I still having this dream?  Did I crash?  Hit my head?_

            “Hey,”  Shara shook his shoulder, not letting him retreat back into unconsciousness.  “Stay with me now.  You got some questions to answer.”

            Slowly he reopened his eyes, his vision once more filled with the woman whose features were forever etched into his memory.  She was younger than what he remembered though, and her eyes didn’t have the weary sort of look she had carried with her after the War was over.  Her thick, dark hair was pulled back into a messy tail and the scar just over her right eye was still healing, fresh.  _Endor.  Or at least close to there.  How is this possible?_

            “What happened?”  he managed to groan out.  Thankfully, it seemed he no longer needed the extra oxygen from the breathing mask.  The air still had that moist quality to it and Poe realized he must have been on a Mon Calamari cruiser.  The ecology of the massive ships mimicked that of the Mon Calamari homeworld as best they could, without being flooded.  It was a compromise no one really enjoyed—the Mon Cals were never wet enough and everyone else found the humidity stifling.  For Poe it always reminded him of home, but he’d rather be reminded of Yavin in other ways besides the thick air one was drinking as much as breathing.

            “I’m the one asking the questions here,”  she told him, her brow quirking upwards in a look he remembered all too well.  The look that asked ‘who just tracked mud through the whole house?’  “Who do you fly for?  Where’d you get that X-Wing?  What the hell were you doing floating out over Sullust?”

            Sullust.  So the battle hadn’t started yet.  The Fleet was still grouping up; Pop was probably on his way with Han Solo and the rest of the Pathfinders already.  It was the greatest battle in a time when there were nothing but great battles.  But it was a trap.  The Empire was already at Endor waiting for them; the garrison had been reinforced and it was going to take Han Solo’s team a tortuously long time to get the shield down.  Many good soldiers and pilots would die in the delay.  The _Liberty_ and the _Nautilian_ , MC80 star cruisers like the _Home One_ he assumed was on now (at least he hoped he wasn’t on one of the other two…), were both lost along with all souls on board.  Could he warn them?  How many lives could be saved if Admiral Ackbar knew it was a trap and could plan for it?  But what would he change by doing so?  How would the Empire alter their tactics?  Would he inadvertently put his parents in danger?

            “Hey?  You lose your hearing, too?”

            Poe shook his head.  “No, m—a’am.”  He pushed himself up into a sitting position, causing Shara to stand back up straighter and cross her arms as she watched him.  “Everything’s a little jumbled.  Where am I?  Sullust?”

            “Just left.”

            _Shit._

            “So we don’t have a lot of time.  I need to get back to my squadron, but everyone thought it was terribly funny how you called me ‘mom’ and now it’s my job to figure out where you came from and what you’re doing here.”

            “You have a kid you said?  Poe?”

            “We’re not talking about me, Ace.”  She was getting short with him.  She was nervous.  They all knew what this battle was—they either won here, or that was it.  This was all that was left of the Alliance Fleet.  “Let’s start with a name.”

            _Poe Dameron.  I’m your son from the future.  You’re gonna do great, Mom.  You save Luke Skywalker’s life!  Oh, and Pop’s okay, too.  No need to worry._   “Uh, P…ablo.  Pablo…”  _Think, you moron!_   “Merrick?  Pablo Merrick.”

            “You sure about that one?”  Again her brow had that high arch making him suddenly contemplate all of his life’s choices.  “Like General Merrick?”

            “No relation.  You can tell because I don’t have his killer ‘stache.”  He grinned wide, but Shara didn’t seem as amused by his humor.  In fact she seemed to be studying him a bit closer, as if she was starting to recognize…

            “And the X-Wing?”

            _Also from the future.  We’re up to T-85s now.  I still take the A-Wing out when I’m home._ “I’m a test pilot for Incom.”  Well, that was a surprisingly easy lie.  That would also explain the slightly different colored flight suit as well as the strange patch on his breast.  The Alliance used those ridiculously oversized blister-pack looking insignias, and pilots didn’t even have their ranks on their uniforms.

            “Is that so?”  Shara’s mouth hung open as if she was going to say more, but the comm on her wrist buzzed and blinked.

            “We’re about an hour out, Bey,”  Poe recognized the voice of L’ulo on the other side of the channel.

            “Got it.”

            “Hey!  I want to help,”  Poe called after her as she began walking out the door.  He pushed himself out of the infirmary bed, perhaps a little too quickly.  He winced, feeling light-headed, but as soon as his mother’s head turned to look at him, he forced himself to shake off the feeling and stand up straight.

            “Your prototype is shot; won’t even power back up.  Don’t think the black box survived either.”

            _Thank the Force.  That would be awkward._   “Whatever you have lying around, I can fly it.”

            The corner of her full lips pulled into a smirk, amused by his brash statement.  “A-Wing?”  The Interceptor-class fighter was no joke.  It took someone very skilled, and very brave, to handle one.

            A year from now, Shara Bey would sit her toddler in her lap and take him up to see the stars.  She’d show him the controls and buttons and switches, and he would hardly understand any of it, but he would fall in love with flying.  Over the next five years they had together she would teach him everything about that fighter.  He would grow to know it inside and out, all of its systems, parts, and quirks.  As a kid he had learned to fly one of the most dangerous and temperamental beasts of the Alliance Fleet, so it was with his earned signature cockiness that he told her,  “I can fly anything.”

            She tried to stop it.  Her hand lifted up to her mouth and her eyes crinkled, nearly shedding tears.  When a snort came out of her nose, she couldn’t hold back the laughter any longer.  Her whole body shook with the uncontrollable giggling as she turned back around and walked away.  _“I can fly anything_ ,”  Poe heard her say in between gasping breaths before a renewed fit of laughs.

            Poe loved that laugh.  Any other time he would have felt appropriately embarrassed, but as he followed her out of the infirmary through the corridors of the cruiser, he had a huge, dumb grin on his face as he listened to her.  Once she tried to apologize as she wiped tears out of the corners of her eyes, but he just shook his head.  Poe had no idea how he had gotten here, how he would get back, but for the few minutes he got to listen to her laugh, it didn’t seem to matter.

            “You’ll be Green Eight,”  Arvel Crynyd, Green Leader, told ‘Pablo’ once they had regrouped with the rest of the squadron in the hangar bay and Shara had introduced him to her comrades.  “You know how to fly in formation?  Battle tactics?”

            “Yes, sir.”  _But never as an Eight… I was squadron leader in the Academy, and XO of Rapier Squadron right after graduation._ He didn’t voice any of those brash thoughts.  The only flight academies during this time period were Imperial ones, and mentioning that would cast even more doubt on his shady arrival.

            “May the Force be with us,”  Shara said followed by agreeing cheers and grunts, and slapping one another on the shoulder as they finished suiting up.

 

 

            Poe had never been in a real firefight, not yet.  He’d run patrols along hyperspace corridors still known for pirate activity, done escort missions for important diplomats to dissuade dissenters from taking pot shots, but for the most part the galaxy under the New Republic was reasonably peaceful.  He’d studied the Alliance battles more than anyone he knew, learned their tactics and the equipment they’d used.  It was hard not to be a huge military history nerd considering who his parents were.  Even if Shara didn’t much like to talk about her part in the War, Kes always told enough stories for the both of them.

            _And the flight simulator, you’ve run this scenario a dozen times!_   Not that the thought kept his bowels from feeling like they were going to explode as the star cruiser slipped back into real space and fighters began darting through the shield of the hangar bay.  As they rolled out into space and formed up, Poe had to slow his thoughts down and remember to use the correct call sign.  “Green Eight, standing by.”  And then, he couldn’t help himself,  “Are we sure the shield is down?”

            There was an almost awkward pause before L’ulo responded,  “Keep the comm clear.”

            Poe grimaced under his helmet.  It wouldn’t matter what he said now.  They were already committed to this line of action.

            “Break off the attack!”  It was Lando Calrissian’s voice coming across the comm.  Poe mouthed the words he knew were coming next as if it were a holo vid he had seen a hundred times and committed to memory.  “The shield is still up!”

            “I get no reading,”  was the reply from Wedge Antilles, Red Leader.  “You sure?”

            “Pull up!  All craft, pull up!”  At the command, the lead ship, the famous Millennium Falcon, banked hard to the left as it approached the Death Star with the rest of the wing following in a similar fashion.

            “It’s a trap,”  Poe said under his breath, keeping his comm closed for now just in case some other things he shouldn’t know started spilling out of his mouth.  The Imperial Fleet appeared in front of the Falcon scattering the fighters trailing behind.

            Though his heart was thumping wildly in his chest, Poe set his jaw and gripped the flight controls.  He pulled his craft back into position, just off the wing of Green Seven.  _Remember your training, remember your training… Yeah, as if peacetime war games were any prep for fighting the whole Imperial Fleet and the Death Star._

_Remember Mom._

            His eyes glanced out across the sea of fighters and their red and green lasers arcing across space.  He found the back of her A-Wing just ahead; he would have known it anywhere.  Shara Bey had flown a bulky, slow cargo hauler before the Rebellion.  No formal training, just tossed in the cockpit and went on to become one of their most decorated and revered pilots.  And he was her son, her blood; she was his first teacher, the only one that mattered.  The hammering in his chest slowed, the tremors in his fingers lessened.

            He knew the Rebellion would win the day.  Knew the Pathfinders on the ground would get the shield down, eventually.  Knew that Luke Skywalker was going to kill the Emperor.  Something in him though still wasn’t convinced, and he fought just as hard as the rest of them.  Taking out TIEs, protecting his wingman, and keeping an eye out for Green Four, just in case.

            “Green Group, let’s see if we can’t sting that Super Star Destroyer,”  Green Leader ordered, before pulling Shara tight into his wing and diving down to take out the cannons.

            It took a lot of restraint to not start calling out his own orders; Poe had to be content with just doing the best he could.  He got one TIE interceptor, and then another before rolling back towards the realigning formation.  Poe only got a second to enjoy a cheering compliment from another pilot before Green Six exploded in front of him.  The onslaught of TIEs was unceasing and with the shield still up the doubt was starting to creep back in.

_Come on, Pop._

A bright flash filled his vision, disorienting just for a second.  The Death Star had just obliterated the _Liberty._   Somehow Poe had forgotten the worst of the Empire’s trap was that their super weapon was operational, despite intelligence to the contrary.  The other star cruisers and frigates began to fall back; there was no defense against such a weapon.  Lando was trying to get them to get closer to the Star Destroyers, turning their suicide mission into one that would maybe take out a few of the enemy on the way down.

            “The shield is down!  Commence attack on the Death Star’s main reactor!”  Admiral Ackbar’s voice screamed across the comm channel.

            Poe let out a huge breath.  They ran cover for the Falcon and the Reds and Golds going into the reactor trench; taking out TIEs that tried to follow them or shuttles launching to send more troops to the surface.

            “I have a visual lock on lambda launch,”  Shara called.  “Moving to intercept.”

            Poe’s breath was quickening, another surge of adrenaline ran through his system as he realized they were close to the end now.  That shuttle was Skywalker’s.  It was only moments before the Falcon destroyed the reactor and the whole thing went.  But then—no, that wasn’t supposed to be there.  “Four!  On your six!”

            Poe pushed the throttle forward as far as it would go, the engines on the A-Wing rocketing him across the space between.  He rolled out of the way of another exploding TIE and dodged nearly hitting a Y-Wing pulling up from a bombing run.  _Come on… get the lock!_ His fingers pressed and held down the trigger on the laser cannons even before the lock was set.  It was reckless, and dangerous, but he couldn’t take the chance on hitting it too late.  Poe whooped as he grazed the wing, sending the TIE off its line and careening back down towards the Death Star.  The elation was short lived, however.  Before the enemy fighter burst into a cloud of debris against the station, it fired back at Poe’s A-Wing, cutting a gash on the port side engine.

            Shara pulled back from the shuttle, taking out the following TIEs and protecting the Jedi on his descent to the moon.  She must have glanced the fire and smoke spilling from the rookie’s craft because she opened a link directly to him,  “Go to ground, Eight!  Quickly before that engine blows!”

            Sweat trickled down Poe’s brow and dripped onto the fabric of his flight suit, realizing the precarious situation he was in.  What the A-Wing gained in speed and maneuverability, it lost in stability, especially if a pilot was foolish enough to get hit.  It was by the grace of the Force alone he hadn’t yet exploded into space dust.  He swallowed; he was going to be another statistic of this battle, this great battle.  Posthumously they’d give a medal to Pablo Merrick, not knowing who he was or where he came from.

            “Shara.”  He wanted to call her mom, desperately.  Again he swallowed, trying to keep his voice from cracking.  “I’m glad I got the chance to meet you.”  _Again._

            “You can make it to the moon!  Just go!”

            The power flow was compromised.  There was probably a short somewhere in the engine.  _Probably?  All the circuits are going, one by one._   He pushed all available power, even life support, towards the forward heat shield.  Breathing wouldn’t do him any good if he burned up in the atmosphere.

            Black.  Black.  Red.  Red……. Blue.

            Bits of side paneling had torn off in reentry, but on the whole the ship was still in one piece.  First obstacle down.

            As soon as gravity took over, his fingers dashed across the controls, testing the sensitive stabilizers—only half were working.  Atmospheric thrusters were also only half there.  _Okay, I can do this._   A loud pop sounded just over his left shoulder and the controls seized.

_Shit._

            One of the dorsal stabilizers had lost power and locked.  He tried adjusting the ventrals to compensate, but the A-Wing had already begun to spin.  _At least the engine hasn’t blown._   Another pop.  _I should just stop thinking._

            It would come down to incredible timing and a whole lot of luck.  This bird was never going to land; he just had to hope he could get out of it before it met the ground.  Gritting his teeth he gripped the handle of the eject mechanism on his seat as he watched the world spinning outside the canopy.

            Sun.

            Ground.

            Sun.

            Ground.

            S—

            He screamed and jerked the lever as hard has he could.  The canopy burst off of the fighter and the seat followed, shooting him out into the air.  He grunted and clenched his jaw as the chute exploded over him, rocketing the seat back upwards from its freefall.  His knuckles were stark white as he gripped the belts attaching his body to the seat, hanging on in both fear and relief.  Just as he let out a breath and his muscles started to unclench, a brilliant light exploded above him.  Even through the translucent chute and the visor on his helmet, he closed his eyes and ducked his head down away from the flash of the destruction of the Death Star.

 

 

            Everything ached.  His muscles were cramped and sore; the way his spine felt like it was crushing into his tailbone made him think that perhaps the chute had not let the seat down those last few meters very gently.  For the second time that day… _is it the same day?_   His limbs wouldn’t move when his brain told them to.  His eyes wouldn’t open.  There was a rustling somewhere off to the side, and maybe voices, but he couldn’t respond or react to whatever it was.

            “That looks like a nasty head wound, but hey, your helmet got most of it!  Split clean like a melon.”  Poe was sure he’d know that laugh anywhere, and the terrible food analogies.  “Sakas!  Hand me that medkit!”

            “What’re you doin’ here, Pop?”  he grumbled, not really expecting his mouth would make any noise.  _Well, that works… what’s wrong with everything else?_

            There was a smattering of chuckles around him, several people.  Then there was the hum of a small vibro blade cutting him out of the seat.  Though he still couldn’t open his eyes, realizing it was the blood dripping down from where he’d hit his head somewhere along the descent, caking thickly over his eyes and face.  The chute and safety fastenings had gotten all tangled around him, pinning him to the seat.  They wasted no time manhandling him, pulling him from the seat and freeing his head from the cracked helmet.  A cloth moved over his face wiping the blood away and then pressed on the top of his head before there was a click from what he assumed was a medkit being opened and then the familiar burning sensation of bacta gel being spread across portions of his scalp.

            “What do you think, Sakas?”  Kes asked.

            There was a slight hum from the hand scanner as the woman, a pink colored Mikkian if Poe remembered correctly, responded,  “Mild concussion, then just cuts and bruises.  Gonna hurt like hell for awhile.  Damn lucky, kid.”

            With a groan, Poe finally got his eyes to open after wiping at them vigorously with the sleeves of his flight suit.  It was a lot of blood, but if Sakas said he was fine…  “What about the rest of my squad?  Did they make it?”

            “Who were you with, son?”

            Poe glanced up at his father.  He’d just seen him a few months ago, but he had been old with grey streaks in his dark hair, his beard patchy and not as well-kept as it was now.  Here he was young with close-cropped dark hair and a trimmed goatee on his chin, though it was starting look scruffy after having been nearly a full day since leaving Sullust.  “Green Squadron, sir.”

            There was a ghost of uncertainty that crossed Kes Dameron’s features, but it was quickly replaced by the confident grin that Poe remembered.  “We were on our way back to the Ewok camp to find out,”  Kes told him as he stood up and then reached down to help Poe to his feet.  “My girl was up there with them, and she’s the best.  I’m sure they’re all fine.”

 

 

            Sakas was right, everything hurt.  All his joints, even his toes, and his head especially.  One of the huts in the Ewok village had been made into a makeshift infirmary.  There were a few others getting stitched up or taking a rest, but most were out celebrating their victory.  Poe was leaning back against the wall, trying to rest but still so anxious to know what had happened to his mother after he’d crashed.  Historically, she had been fine.  She escorted Luke Skywalker’s shuttle down to the surface without incident and then returned to _Home One._   Eventually she’d make her way down to the Alliance camp, but as the hours dragged on and soldiers started finding places to bed down for the night, Poe grew more worried.

            “I never got your name.”

            “Uh, Pablo.  Sir.”  Poe said stiffly as he struggled to sit up a bit straighter on the dusty ground.

            Kes chuckled and shook his head.  “Pilot right?  So you’re at least an LT.  Sir.”

 _Captain, actually.  Kind of on the fast track to Commander if I can stop back-talking my superiors._   “I just sort of accidentally fell into the Rebellion today.  Right place, right time.”

            “Swoop in and steal all the glory in the eleventh hour?”  Kes let out a hearty laugh and slapped him on the shoulder causing Poe to wince painfully, though his father didn’t seem to notice.

            “Hey, Dameron!  Some pretty dame out here looking for you!”

            Kes grinned and turned away from Poe who had started scrambling to his feet.  Relief washed across Poe’s face as he saw Shara Bey saunter into the hut wearing her own look of worry crossing into satisfaction as her eyes found her husband.  Though the pair of them had begun to have a moment, staring lovingly into each other’s eyes, Poe was the inconsiderate child.  Sluggishly he moved towards them at first, and then quickly inserted himself between them, throwing his arms around his mother and holding her tightly.  He barely contained the choking gasp as the swell of emotion flooded him.  He wanted to tell her everything, even if it would make no sense.

            There was a firm hand on his shoulder, squeezing just enough to get his attention and reluctantly Poe pulled back from Shara.  He looked apologetic as he rubbed his fingers up under his eyes.  “I just—I’m glad you’re okay.”

            “Hey, Lieutenant Bey, you want to get out of here?”  Kes moved his hand from Poe’s shoulder and reached down to intertwine his fingers with Shara’s, steadily pulling her out of the hut with him.

            His mother glanced back just over Kes’ shoulder as he pulled her away and gave Poe a small, appreciative smile.

            Poe wiped his nose with his sleeve and kicked the dirt with the toe of his boot out of frustration and embarrassment.  There were some snickers from the other soldiers lounging around, but Poe just swallowed as he watched them leave, trying to pick up on their quiet conversation.

            “You know he called me ‘Mom’ when we found him?”

            “He called me ‘Pop.’  What a nutjob.”

            “Amazing pilot, saved my skin.  I want to call Dad, talk to Poe.”

            “I know you do, babe.”

 

 

            Poe was leaning up against a tree outside late into the evening.  The celebrations had died down, the music had become a single drum beating slowly, and the massive bonfire had fallen to just glowing embers.  Though his body still ached and craved sleep, his mind wouldn’t let him have any rest.  He had wanted to follow them, just to keep glancing at his mother, but realized that he didn’t _actually_ want to watch his parents’ post-battle make-out session.  So he just stood around, watching the celebrations and trying to pick out the faces of people he knew.

            “You don’t belong here.”

            Poe startled and turned around knowing instantly who the voice belonged to.  He would meet Luke Skywalker a couple years from now.  He would come to Yavin IV to visit Shara and Kes and check on the tree they planted in their yard: the tree connected to the Force that Shara would help him rescue from an Imperial stronghold on Vetine.  It was Shara’s last mission for the Rebellion before coming home.  Poe remembered being that boy struck with awe at meeting the hero of the Rebellion.  _Sure, Mom and Pop were both heroes, but Luke Skywalker—THE Jedi!_

            When Poe didn’t respond, just again stood with his mouth agape in shock at meeting the legend, Luke continued.  He wasn’t accusatory with his tone, just curiously observant.  “The Force moves differently around you.  As if you’re… out of place.”

            “Out of time,”  Poe corrected, finally finding his voice.  Time travel should not be possible.  He shouldn’t have been here, but as he had been taught as a boy, all things were possible with the Force.  And sometimes the Force had a will of its own.  There was only one person in the galaxy at this moment that had any understanding of the Force.  “Right now I’m two years old getting a holo transmission from my mom that she and my dad survived the battle on Endor.  Six months from now she’s gonna come home.”

_Oh come on, Dameron.  Don’t start crying again.  Not in front of Luke kriffing Skywalker._

            “And in six years she’ll be dead.  It’s not an accident or anything I could possibly change by being here—her body just gives up.”  Poe turned away, a hand rubbing across his face.  It was an easy slide from the grief to the anger.  “What was the point of bringing me here if I can’t _do_ anything?”

            Luke took a step away to give Poe a bit of space, his hands clasping behind his back.  He looked up to the stars for a moment before asking,  “Perhaps there’s another reason?  The Force is trying to show you something.”

            “It’d be a lot easier if it just came out with it already.”

            “Maybe think about what was bothering you before you got here.”

            Poe let out a staggering breath as the toes of his boots again kicked irritatingly at the dirt.  There had been something that had been consuming his thoughts the past few weeks.  He’d been going back and forth, weighing the pros and cons.  Trying to decide what he really wanted, what he thought he could accomplish.  “I was thinking about leaving the Republic Navy.  I don’t know what I’d do, but flying in air shows and patrolling dead smuggling routes wasn’t what I had in mind when I signed up.”

            There was a pause before Luke responded, he sounded hopeful, but at the same time almost shocked,  “So the galaxy is at peace?”

            Poe turned back around, suddenly feeling quite guilty about what he had said.  People like his parents and Luke and all the others, they had lived this war for so long.  The galaxy that Poe grew up in was very different from the one they had known as children.  Slowly, he nodded,  “I always thought about how exhilarating those great battles must have been.  Flying circles around TIEs and blowing up the Death Star…”

_Am I some dumb kid, or what?_

            “But I was terrified.  The thought of my mom dying before she ever got the chance to come home.  Watching Arvel Crynyd sacrifice himself to take down that Star Destroyer.”  _Not to mention my own, short life flashing before my eyes as that fighter plunged towards the surface._   “Maybe keeping the peace is just as honorable as making the peace.  I’d never want what they gave up to be in vain.”

            Luke walked the few steps in between them and reached out his arm, a smile playing on his lips.  Poe took his hand, shaking it firmly.  “I think the future is in good hands.  I hope you stay vigilant and protect what we’ve won here.”

            “Yes, sir.”

 

 

            There weren’t words to describe what had happened to him.  When Iolo and Karé pulled him out of his X-Wing he had been deprived of oxygen for several minutes.  There was no explanation as to why his fighter had suddenly lost all power, including emergency life support, and dropped out of hyperspace at the far edge of the Hosnian system.  He was lucky there was a cruiser nearby to pull him in, and the rest of Rapier Squadron trailing behind once they’d realized they had lost their XO.

            He had tried to explain to the medic what had happened, but it had been chalked up to hallucinations brought on by his brain trying not to die.  Eventually Poe stopped telling the story.  He thought about calling his father, and got as far as inputting the comm address into his commpad before backing out.  Kes would have been unbearably kind, smiling warmly as Poe talked about seeing his mother and trying not to cry.  He just wasn’t sure he could take it.

            A few days later he found himself at a memorial park on the Capital.  It was one of the more beautiful ones with a large fountain and gleaming stone obelisks carved with the names of those who had served.  This one in particular was dedicated to those who had fought at the Battle of Endor.  He had come here as a boy when it was built and found his mother’s name among those carved.  He didn’t remember any others even though his father had pointed them out.  It had been just after her death, so her name was the only one that had filled his thoughts.

            His fingers dragged along the lists of squadrons of fighters: Red, Gold, Blue, Blade, Corona, Grey, Hawk, and finally Green.  He traced the engraved names, sounding each one out carefully in respectful memory.

            Arvel Crynyd

            L’ulo

            Kokely

            Shara Bey

            Pablo Merrick

**Author's Note:**

> This was for the /r/fanfiction January challenge. I've been wanting to write a "Poe goes back in time and sees Shara" type of story for awhile so this was a great opportunity to explore that! Thanks to [PugMaster](http://archiveofourown.org/users/PugMaster) for wrangling my terrible use of commas.


End file.
